…is how I’ve been feeling these days. Like I’ve lost my muchness. Perhaps growing up and maturing (and I use the term “maturing” loosely) are to blame but I can’t stand to think or accept that maybe, I’ve lost my spark, too. Or— if I even had a spark at all*! Excuse me while I dive into a neurotic rant in the next (few) paragraphs:

*Was that what I had in my youth? Spark…iness? What if it was just the alcohol all along, that fueled those crazy years? Nights of going to sleep (oh, did I say sleep? I meant passing out he he he) with strange people and mornings waking up in stranger places? (Well, of course it’s always the alcohol; I mean, who passes out from sheer exhaustion when they’re 19, right?) What if I’ve always been this boring, unfeeling fart who would rather shoot dismissive glances at people, and that younger Helga was a “Just Add Alcohol” kinda gal, ya know? I don’t want to be that kind of person!

But let’s say that it wasn’t just the alcohol. Maybe I truly was (are?) a crazy broad— the kind who crosses Katipunan Avenue at midnight just to sit on some MMDA roadblocks; the kind who passes out on the street while walking home, leaving her friends kneeling on the concrete beside her, begging her to please wake up (I can feel your secondhand embarrassment. Stop it); the kind who broke sinks (LOL); the kind who would walk to the neighborhood 7-11 for a second bottle of cheap red wine (and it wasn’t even 10pm yet) and to harass the clerk to loan her a corkscrew and a receipt printer; the kind who had moral issues in the morning (ok, it was actually what my junior year Theology class was called but I loved saying “Oh, I can’t stay out too late tonight… I have Moral Issues in the morning”), etc etc. There are more but I have selective amnesia. Now I’m pretty sure kids these days have better drunk stories but in my day, these were legendary!

(By the way, it’s only a little bit sad that the stories I will tell my grandchildren will always begin with “Once, I was sewwwwwwwww drunk…”)

As I was saying— maybe that’s the kind of person I really am and if so, I guess it’s a good thing I’ve simmered down because I wouldn’t want to be like that at this age. At the same time, I want that level of fun and crazy and untroubled youth and SPARK back… minus the passing out in public places bit (I promise never to do that again) and preferably, with less alcohol.

I’ve never been one for introspection so this has been a somewhat long rant with no resolution. Until I figure things out and until I’ve come up with a plan to reclaim my muchness and spark, I’ll be under the covers at 10pm on a weeknight, watching old episodes of Hannah Montana, and yelling at the kids to get off my lawn.

More photos of today’s rather unremarkable outfit: